Filking around
by A.A. Pessimal
Summary: A very short experiment wih the art and style of the Filk. If you son't know what a Filk is, go to content. Getting over writer's block in another tale by masking myself write and finish something!


_**Filking things up**_

The_** Terry Pratchett L-Space Web **_and the near-legendary _.pratchett _(a bulletin board that Terry himself used to contribute to, before the workload got too much and he got tired of fans saying things like _so you're the real Terry Pratchett, then? OK, prove it._) invented the tradition of the _**filk. **_

A _**filk **_is one of those amusing typos first made in error, like _**merkin**_ for "American", which stuck and took on a life of their own. Originally _folk_, as in a folk-song whose words have been adapted to celebrate a Discworld character or concept, it spread to include classical opera airs (naturally), madrigals, pop and rock songs rewritten for the Discworld.

I just wish FanFic allowed me to post links, but this song originated with the much under-rated American heavy rock Gothic band, the _Blue Öyster Cult_. British readers will think of them, sadly, as one-hit wonders: American readers will know they had three or four more hit records than that. It is inconceivable that Terry does not know this band, as the hit single common to Britain and the USA is referenced many times in the Discworld opus. In dog-Latatian, it became the motto of the extended Death family: _Non Timetus Messor. _In fact, Death and Susan Sto Helit act out its final verse in the opening pages of Hogfather, while later on, Jonathan Teatime and Susan have a heated discussion as to the _tastefulness _of the family motto. As well as this, there are fairly unmistakeable references and allusions to other songs by the band scattered around the Discworld books**(1)**1. Often billed as The Thinking Man's Heavy Metal, the B.O.C.'s intelligent and well-crafted songs would be right up Terry's listening street.

The band have even repaid the compliment: look at the back cover of the greatest hits compilation _Cult Classic, _where a cowled and skeletal Death, scythe aloft, walks through a golden wheatfield under an ominous lightning-shot sky. Yup, I thought _**Reaper Man**_ too.

Today's song is not _**Don't Fear The Reaper. **_Too obvious. I have gone right back to _**the Colour of Magic**_ and paired a key non-human character with its Filk.

_**Black Blade **_was written for the Blue Öyster Cult by British fantasy fiction writer Michael Moorcock, himself no mean guitarist who has trod the stage frequently with British space-rockers Hawkwind. In his Elric books, he introduces the character of weak and sickly wizard-king Elric, who only comes into his strength after taking up the evil black sword Stormbringer. The sword exerts a terrible price for the power it gives him, and Elric soon despises himself for an addiction he lacks the strength to break.

Now a Black Sword appears in _**The Colour of Magic**_ too…. just as Terry uses his creation to spoof Moorcock, here's my filk of the song. For the original, You-Tube "_Blue Öyster Cult_." And "_Black Blade_" (I wish I could post a link….)

* * *

I have this feeling

That my luck is none too good;

This sword here by my side

Can't shut up the way it should;

It keeps droning in my earhole

Till I feel like its slave;

Talking, talking without ever stopping,

Till I go early to my grave!

And it yaps!

It won't shut up!

I'm told it's my duty

To amuse my patron Lady Luck;

But since she sent this sword

I couldn't give a damn;

I'd much rather be a lover,

Not a red-eyed sleepless ghoul;

I wish it picked another

To tell its story to!

_(Black. Blade.) Forged a million years ago , alive; _

_Talking so its power… grows, grows, grows…_

_With a tale to tell for every year – (alive…)_

And it speaks!

It just can't stop!

There's rabbit

From the beginning

Till the end of time;

And I'm the concussed listener,

And I hold this warped design,

And my earholes burn!

And the burden's mine!

And the Black Sword keeps on talking

Till the end of time!

And it chats!

It won't shut up!

_(Black. Blade). _Gonna chuck it in some sea somewhere!, _(alive); _

And it's using me to bore my friends!

Getting stronger, and my ears will bend!

Forcing my ears to bend and bend!

_( In a metallic, flat, dead, droning, voice, like Marvin the Paranoid Android, only less interesting) _

I am Kring the Black Blade!

Forged a million billion years ago!

With a jolly interesting tale for each of those years!

When you get to know me I'm actually jolly d;

Carving out history;

Looking for a hero who can read and write

So he can do my autobiography.

("_Chronicle of the Black Sword_" would be a nice title.)

Some say I suck out the will to live from knights and ladies

And I even induce a certain weariness in the beasts of Hades;

But that's a bit harsh, don't you think?

There was a time I belonged to the Pasha of Redurat

That's when I got this little nick two-thirds of the way up my left side, look.

I'm not boring you, am I?

What are you doing?

No, don't drop me off the back of this dragon!

That looks like a jolly deep sea!

Oh, not again!

_(dwindling and fading)_

You human bastard!

* * *

1 **(1) **When the backlog of mail cries out to Moist von Lipwig for deliverance in _**Going Postal, **_Moist replies "I'm not the one you were looking for" – the title of a BOC song about having to settle not for what you _want_, but the best you can actually _get_, as the voice of the mail makes clear to him…


End file.
